


Lost and Found

by hockeylass



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bank Robbery, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Hypothermia, Kidnapping, Medical Inaccuracies, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Sick Peter Parker, Survival, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:35:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22831870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hockeylass/pseuds/hockeylass
Summary: It had been a crappy few hours.Well, he guessed at it being a few hours, it could’ve been a day, could’ve been a week, there was no sense of time now.And it had all been going so well.----------Tony and Peter wanted to enjoy their father-son bonding day. Sadly some bank robbers had other ideas.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 3
Kudos: 112





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy this whumpy one-shot, I have no idea where I was going with it but hopefully it's alright. Anyway. Hope you like!

It had been a crappy few hours.

Well, he guessed at it being a few hours, it could’ve been a day, could’ve been a week, there was no sense of time now.

And it had all been going so well.

He’d overcome his huge anxiety to leave the lake house, and go out properly for only the second time in three years - to accompany Peter for his registration to MIT. 

He’d also been for a burger and ice cream at a cheap diner in Queens - and would you believe he enjoyed it - and then he’d gone with Peter to the bank to open his student account and deposit a $10,000 start-up trust fund for him to get him started for the new semester. He wanted to give him more but Peter insisted on the frankly abysmal amount, claiming he wanted to earn his own money with his photography. 

They were just about to sign the paperwork when it went to shit.

They found themselves in the middle of a robbery. Then they found themselves being used as human shields/hostages. Then they were bundled into the back of a van and knocked out, before coming round in a dark and dingy cell with absolutely no way of knowing where they were.

The ordeal had been going on long enough for him to start feeling unwell from his missed medications, that was for sure. No amount of pain and nausea though was enough to match the worry he felt for his boy as the robbers began hitting and kicking him, with absolutely no reason or motive, it seemed.

He could only watch, tethered to the wall, as Peter took each hit so bravely, never once showing a sign of his true powers and identity. There was some twisted blissful release when he saw Peter finally give in and lose consciousness, his ragged breath the only thing to suggest he was still alive - but at least it meant the robbers would stop.

Course that meant he was next. By contrast, he didn’t take long to pass out, already weak from his existing medical issues. The snap had taken more than just his arm, it had taken a whole lot more and it took about 20 different pills a day and weekly infusions to keep him on the straight and narrow.

But now he was here, laying in the middle of a clearing in what he took to be a forest, aching, sore and unwell, in the middle of the night. No sounds of traffic, no artificial light from nearby towns or villages. Nothing. Just the wind rustling the leaves and the eeriness of nature at night.

Struggling to adjust his vision to the blackness, he rolled slowly over onto his good side and saw the faint outline of his kid, unmoving.

“Pete? Kid?” No response. He tried to call out louder. “Pete?”

“Hmmmmph” Peter hissed..

“Y’OK? Can’t see you, it’s so dark.” He tried in vain to reach out and rouse the boy but he just didn’t have the energy.

He heard Peter groan again, but all he could do was slump back down onto his back, staring up into the pitch black sky, wondering how the hell they’d got here. 

It had been a crappy few hours.

........

His dreams played on a loop, playing out the last six weeks.

They were vivid, the full chronology of what he’d been going through, the progress he’d made, the version of normal he had begun to feel. 

They started at the same spot, picking up a coffee cup with his new prosthetic arm, an unlikely ally in Bucky Barnes next to him to guide him through the process. Then it was the perpetually unimpressed Dr Stephen Strange patting him on the back for his recovery effort - and deeming him fit enough to complete a six-month sabbatical at Kamar Taj to learn the magic required to heal his internal illnesses and injuries - the radiation poisoning, the weakened organs, the lung capacity, the nerve damage. 

The dream then shot straight to Peter leaping about the room with his MIT acceptance letter, then him looking in the mirror at his haggard features as Pepper helped him put on his disguise - a wig, contact lenses and some facial prosthetics - to hide his identity.

And every time the dream turned into a nightmare. The robbery, the subsequent kidnapping, his silicone nose being knocked clean off by a robbers’ punch. The shouting and screaming of the robbers outside the cell, arguing over what they should do now they’ll be known as the great Tony Stark’s killers - the moment the biggest of the group came in and beat them both senseless. Their possessions being burned - the watches, the phones and the wallets - the agony of his mechanical arm being ripped from his body. 

It was on the fourth round of the dream, just as he felt the cold air on his stump and the sight of his prosthetic arm being broken over the knee of his attacker, that he woke up.

Turned out it was rain which had pulled him from his unconscious state, large cold droplets hitting his face hard enough to sting. He felt wretched, aches across his body and the phantom pain from his arm absolutely excruciating. The scrambled signals from the severed nerves were interpreted by his brain as pain, and without a lot of nerve dampening drugs it was almost enough to make him throw up. He knew he couldn’t stay in this exposed spot forever though, and tried to breathe through it as best he could. As he calmed his body - Dr Strange’s meditation techniques really were very good despite his initial cynicism - and oriented his mind until his pain was just below unbearable, he looked again to his left. Peter was still there, in the position he last saw him in, worryingly still.

He managed to sit himself up and get onto his knees, shuffling across and using his good arm to try to shake Peter back into consciousness.

“Kid?” he rasped, throat dry and sore. “Come on, you need to wake up, we need to find somewhere dry.”

Peters swollen and bruised eyes sluggishly fluttered open, and found his.

“Hey…” Peter said weakly. “You OK?”

“I’ve had better days. We gotta move. I...I can’t lift you up kid.”

“Sure,” Peter said. He watched the cogs in the kid’s mind whirr and he knew what he was thinking about - moving. The very notion of untucking his hands out from under his armpits and moving. There was nothing he could do but wait for the boy to come to some sort of lucidity and he watched patiently as Peter slowly took stock of his surroundings and rose to his elbows. “S’cold,” he huffed, after some effort. 

“Yeah kid it’s cold. Come on, we need to get up, get moving. It’ll help us warm up a bit.”

“Mmm yeah,” Peter said, contemplating his next move. “You ok?” he asked again.

He noted the repeated question, and pushed the worry down. “Feeling a little ropey bud, not gonna lie.”

“Ok, ok, I got this,” Peter said determinedly as he got himself into an upright position, before letting out a pained grunt as he straightened out.

He couldn’t help but worry about his protege. It had been some time since they’d been dumped, maybe a day at the very least, and none of Peter’s injuries had healed. His face was littered with bruises, his nose looked a little crooked and the shiner on his right cheekbone was really nasty. Plus he had a deep, gaping cut above his eye and a smaller one in the corner of his mouth, too. The rain had washed a lot of the blood away but it still looked very painful. 

He accepted the hand Peter offered him, to help him stand, but couldn’t help but note how he almost hugged himself with his other arm - broken ribs then. Without a word, the pair leaned into each other for support and began to walk to a destination unknown.

……..

It had been six hours since Pepper had last heard from Tony. He’d called her to let her know they’d be going into Queens for a bit to do what Peter had called “Adulting”, and that was the last of it. She’d called, she’d texted, she’d whatsapped - not just Tony but Peter as well - and been hit with a wall of silence. FRIDAY had been trying to trace them too, but to no avail. 

Her instincts were rarely wrong and the worry swelled in the pit of her stomach. The 9pm local news provided the horrid proof of her fears. 

“We bring you eyewitness footage of a robbery today at the MidTown Bank in Queens,” said the news anchor. “This disturbing video of two men being held hostage by the armed robbers has just been sent into us via the NYPD, who are appealing for witnesses to try to identify both the assailants and the hostages, who have not been seen since the incident. More as we get it but if you have any information please call 911 and quote ‘operation overdraft’.”

Pepper had to sit down. She knew it was them. She’d helped design Tony’s disguise, the blonde wig, the coloured eye contacts, the prosthetic nose, the impressive second skin for his metal arm. 

“FRIDAY bring me everything you have on this incident,” she said, grimly. “Call everyone you can think of who can help in the search.”

“Right on it,” responded the AI.  
……..

Exhaustion was winning.

In the time they’d spent staggering into the unknown, neither he or Peter had really spoken, save for the occasional “OK?” and no more of a hum in response, to say they were fine. Both knew the other was lying through their gritted teeth. 

Eventually, weary to the bone, they found a canopy of ancient oak trees, the cover thick enough to give them shelter from about 80 percent of the rainfall. Almost telepathically, the pair knew to stagger to one particularly wide tree trunk to sit beside it. 

He felt like a lead weight, pressed up against the bark, searching for warmth in the old oak. He watched as Peter foraged for kindling for a fire, moving slowly, and sluggishly as if he were made of cast iron. He couldn’t see the boy’s face - his vision wasn’t so great any more and anything more than a metre or so away was somewhat of a blur. Just another change to get used to. 

“Mr Stark, ssstay there and I’ll get stuff forfffire, K?” he slurred, huffing with each wheezing breath. The worry he’d pushed down earlier was rising fast. He’d already been said that, gone wandering looking for firewood, had he forgotten or simply lost windows of time? He watched forlornly, as the teen began his search again.

He must have nodded off because the next he knew, there was warmth licking at his legs, and a weight against his side. He opened his eyes to see a modest but well-lit fire in front of them. To his left, just as before, Peter was there, curled into a ball next to him, chin curled into his neck. He was way too cold to touch, and way too still. 

He knew Peter was vulnerable to hypothermia, the extensive tests Bruce had conducted when Peter first became an Avenger confirmed that - something to do with his spider DNA. But he had no idea what the effects would be, how quickly it would set in, what it would take to treat. To be honest he never anticipated this sort of thing happening. 

His train of thought was interrupted by a groan from the teen and a shuffle, drawing himself even closer to the mechanic, if that were possible.

“Well done, kid,” he said, softly. “This is a good fire. You’ll be warmer soon, you’ll see.”

“Mmmmmm”, Peter mumbled, pulling mindlessly at his shirt. “Nnneed to get dry.”

He wrapped his good arm round Peter’s shoulder, and rubbed it gently, trying to generate a bit more warmth. It benefited him too. He knew he didn’t have much longer himself before things would start going south. His nerve endings were starting to tingle throughout his body, phantom pains were becoming unbearable and his heart had skipped more than a dozen beats in the previous hour. He’d been counting. 

“We gotta find our way outta here, kid. Hey, you never did Boy Scouts or anything?”

“Nnnooooo,” came the drunken-sounding response.

“Hmm, we’ll have to try to use some common sense then. Outdoor stuff was never really my thing.”

Peter didn’t respond, so he just carried on rubbing the kid’s arm, knowing time was running out. All he could do at this stage was to hope the fire could buy them a bit more. 

\-----------

The lake house garage, where Tony had set up his workshop, was now a HQ for those Avengers who could be there. Doctor Strange, Sam, Bucky and Bruce were busy tracking all the various footage of the van which had sped away from the scene, wishing Nat was still around to spot the things most people missed.

“What I don’t understand is how they managed to evade the police,” Bruce said, flinging his pen at the desk before rubbing his eyes wearily. “They were on their tail for miles, and then nothing. They just… disappeared.”

“I don’t even care about the robbers, I just want to get them back,” Sam said, arms crossed. 

“But we’ll kill the robbers anyway,” Bucky added with quiet menace.

“Tony needs his medication, I don’t know how long he’s going to last without them,” Pepper said solemnly.

“We’ll get him back,” Strange said. “When we get a location, we can just portal there and bring them home.

“Just so long as we get the location.”

“And how are we supposed to get that if they just disappeared?” Sam retorted, his usual sarcastic tone now laced with frustration.

\-----------

“Don’t feel ssso g’d,” he heard Peter mumble, as the sun reached its peak on their first full day in the forest. The temperature had dropped in the middle of the night but was rising again to a bearable level, milky rays of light finding their way to the canopy floor. He’d woken just before the sun had risen, sitting against the tree with the boy slumped against him, unmoving. Stiff and sore was an understatement, and he could feel the ache in his stomach and kidneys growing by the hour. His clothes were damp with dew, his trousers still soaked through and he was alarmed to see some of Peter’s hair was frost-bitten.

He had tried to wake Peter but there was no response - Tony hadn’t expected much more to be honest, the exhaustion or the cold taking its toll - so, after psyching himself up after an indeterminate amount of time, he’d slowly risen, leaving Peter slumped in front of the dwindling fire, to try to see if he could get more wood, maybe some kind of food, and most importantly, try to get some kind of bearing on where they were. 

He was just about to head over the ridge to the left of them when he heard Peter’s quiet, slurred mumble. He went over to the boy as quickly as he could, nausea rising with the pain it caused to move any faster than a snail’s pace. 

“Wwwhere r’wwwe?” 

Brown eyes barely opened to look at him, and his gaze was scarily vacant. 

“In a forest somewhere kid, and unless we start moving we’re never going to find out more than that. Do you think you can stand up for me?”

It was as if Peter was on some kind of time delay. He’d never seen the teenager move so slowly, as he went to try to stand, hands sticking to the ragged bark to pull himself to his feet. It was frankly agonising to watch. “Ssssorryy,” the boy said as he turned to him. “Slllloww.” Even his words were long, drawn out, laboured, and he knew it. 

Like a newborn foal taking its first steps, Tony helped Peter stay upright and move, ungainly limbs seemingly not functioning as they should. He could have used not being some kind of support but there wasn’t an awful lot more he could do, or they’d both be doomed. 

Tony did the only thing he could think was logical, and followed the sun in the hope it would bring them to some form of life, some kind of hope.

The terrain was unforgiving for the two of them, Peter falling twice, and Tony once - all thanks to hidden branches under the leaf litter, tiny traps to trip them up. Their stomachs audibly rumbled, mouths became drier - it felt like everything was in short supply. 

By the time Peter next spoke, he was practically hanging off his mentor, almost a dead weight. The only reason he knew the kid was still alive was the small puffs of condensated breath coming from his mouth in effort.

“Tttr’ks,” he said Peter, the words muffled as he slumped into Tony’s damp blazer. 

“What, kid?”

“L-l-l-o-o-k-k-k,” he said, weakly lifting a hand in front of him, pointing into the distance.

At first Tony couldn’t see what Peter was going on about, but then, in the far distance, he could make out some divots in the clearing - tire tracks. He chastised himself for not having looked for them before, given they must have been driven to the clearing and dumped. It was a good job Peter’s brain was still functioning, he thought, even if his body wasn’t.

“Come on Underoos, we better follow those” he said. “You did good.”

\----------

Time seemed to pass at a snail’s pace. The sun began to descend, the tire tracks became a little harder to see, and he felt Peter continue to get slower and slower, his lips almost as white as the rest of his skin. He was so very tired, struggling to stay on his feet let alone hold Peter up. But he had to dig deep, it wasn’t in him to quit, and the prospect of finding help was enough to keep him and Peter shuffling forward.

“... where are we?” slurred the teen.

“Getting there, OK?”

“Uncle Ben?”

Tony’s heart broke a bit. “It’s Tony, kid.”

“Oh… where’s Ben?”

“He’s not here right now, don’t worry.” A lump formed in Tony’s throat.

“K,” a pause. “Where are we?”

“In a forest bud. Not for much longer hopefully.”

“Hmmm. You K?”

“I’ll be fine. Let’s just keep going. You tell me if you hear anything with those super ears eh?”

The boy gave another grunt of affirmation. 

“Where are we?”

Tony couldn’t find it in him to answer the boy again. 

He had no idea how much time had passed but in the end, in the pitch black, Tony couldn’t go on. He was spent, he knew Peter was spent, and unless there was to be some miracle, they weren’t going to make it through another night. 

He comforted the boy, who seemingly put up no form of a fight, as he lowered him down into the small nook of a large tree trunk. He sat down next to him, propping him up under his good arm and holding him close. He didn’t want Peter to feel alone in his final moments, and just prayed the pair of them would fall into their final sleep at the same time, to save either of them the emotional turmoil of loss. Both of them had been through enough. 

“Ben?”

“It’s Tony, kid.”

“Love you.”

“Yeah I love you too underoos. You get some sleep OK?”

Salty tears trickled down his face.

“Can’t sleep,” the boy murmured. “Going in the car now.”

“Kid, there’s no cars around here. Just trees, and probably some wolves.” Part of him wished he hadn’t said that last part, he hoped they wouldn’t be devoured.

“Engine’s running.”

“No, it’s not,” he sighed, coughing, and tasting the blood which had come with it. “It’s probably just the wind you’re hearing.”

“Car? Nooooooo…. bus!” he giggled deliriously. “Wheels on the bus go round and round….”

“No time for nursery rhymes kiddo, it’s making my head hurt more, if that’s possible.” Tony paused while Peter continued to hum the nursery rhyme tune, ignoring the man’s request. Suddenly, he wondered if Peter was indeed, hearing things. He tried to turn Peter so he could look him in the eyes. It was a fruitless effort, the teenager seemingly unable to focus on anything, eyes swimming in their sockets. Tony gripped the teen’s shoulder, hard.

“Where is the bus Pete?”

“Soon…”

“Soon? Do you mean it’s not far? Gimme a direction?”

“Ten.”

“Ok please Peter I need you to focus. What do you mean?”

He watched Peter try to form the words, his face screwed up in concentration. His arm shakily pointed in front of him. “12” he slurred, before moving his arm a little to his left. “Ten”.  
Tony could work with that. 

“Ok, good. Well done kid. Let’s go get the bus, think you can do that?”

“Hmmm… field trip. Gum...gross.”

“Ok Peter, Ok.” This was getting harder and harder for Tony to deal with. He staggered onto his feet and tried to pull Peter up with his one arm, a near impossible task given the kid didn’t seem to have any motor control at all, and was holding on to the older man not through any form of natural grip but by the sticky pads on his fingers.

“Come on kid, you gotta work with me here.”

“Am... Mr Stark...I’m tired.”

“I know, me too. One last bit, OK?”

The pair held on tightly to one another as they tentatively and sluggishly advanced, unsure of the hazards before them as the darkness seemed only to get darker. All Tony could hear was his and Peter’s laboured breathing - for so long. But then...other noises of life. He heard the engine too, multiple engines actually - the chug of a truck, a high-pitched motorcycle, cars...help.

The noises became louder and then, lights began appearing, a highway coming into full view. Tony’s weak heart pounded in his chest as he realised how close they both were to being saved. 

“Almost there kid.”

“Hmmm... bed.”

“Sounds good, you need a nice warm blanket eh?”

“Where are...my feet?”

“Come on now kid stay with me, last bit.”

Peter could only groan in response, his half-lidded and glassy eyes staring beyond the lights somehow as he seemed to become smaller and smaller in Tony’s limited grip.

Finally, the ground beneath them switched from mud to asphalt, a fairly busy highway in front of them.

“Safe now, Mr Star-“ Peter said as he lost consciousness, hitting the ground with a sickening thud.  
Tony crumpled in a heap next to the boy, checked his pulse and found it to be weak and thready. He needed medical help and fast - late stage hypothermia had very much kicked in and he didn’t know how much longer it’d be before the kid’s heart would give out permanently.

He wasn’t a religious man, but at that point he thought his silent prayers were heard when a car pulled up in front of them.

A young woman got out, the headlights of the car illuminating the stricken duo. “Sir, have you been in an accident?” He gave no answer as he comforted the boy, pulling him onto his lap, rubbing his chest frantically.

She pulled out her phone and dialled 911. “Yes, medical assistance needed immediately, we’re on the 87, southbound, towards Sloatsburg. Yes, two males, one is unconscious-“

“It’s hypothermia,” Tony said wearily. He could feel himself slipping, the rubbing of Peter’s chest the only thing grounding him to the living world. 

The girl relayed the information on her phone. “Sir, an ambulance is on its way, shouldn’t be long…. yes sorry I’m still here ...yes ok I should have some supplies. Let me get what I can from my car.”

The girl ran back to her car, phone still stuck to her ear and she emerged with a half eaten bag of crisps, a bottle of water and two children’s fleece blankets.

With the phone now on loudspeaker, she wrapped the pair in the blankets and gave Tony the water which he readily accepted.

“Where’s your car?” she asked. “Is anyone else involved?” added the voice on the phone.

“We were hostages in a robbery, taken somewhere...dumped here.” Tony huffed.

The girl’s face changed immediately. “Oh my God I saw that on the news, they said you were dead!... Oh my god I know who you are! Mr Stark..I… Oh gosh.”

“Well...we’re back.”

The first responder on the line cut in. “Mr Stark are you OK, you’re slurring.”

“I need my medication.”

“Do you know how long it is since you last had it?”

“No. What day is it?”

“Wednesday? Why?”

“Oh. So two days…” his eyes fluttered shut.

The last thing he heard was the nice young lady pleading with him to stay awake. 

\------------

Pepper was at her wit’s end. She’d done everything - they had done everything - to try to find her husband and the boy they both saw as a son.

Sam, Bucky, Bruce and Strange had stuck around, providing support, tracking any leads they could find. The van had been found, which had given them momentary hope but when Strange portalled to its location, found it abandoned on a lonely highway, stripped of any evidence.

Just as they were sipping their umpteenth coffee, FRIDAY broke the silence.

“Mrs Stark there’s reports of two men, matching Tony and Peter’s description, being treated by paramedics near Sloatsburg.”

Pepper stood immediately, the entire team suddenly alert. “Sloatsburg?”

Strange stood, pulled his sling ring from his belt and conjured a portal. Sure enough, through the portal they could see the ambulance lights flashing, and a throng of people. 

They all raced through.

\-------------

Beep...beep...beep

His head was still pounding but at least there was a soft pillow beneath it, and soft sheets, and he felt clean and he could smell fresh flowers as opposed to wet leaf litter and mulch. He was dry and he was laying and the phantom pains from his arm were all but gone. 

He strained his eyes open to soft evening light, Pepper waiting by his bedside. 

“Hey Tone,” she said, softly, stroking his hand. “God its so good to see those eyes again.”

“Hey Pep,” he mumbled. “Where am I?”

“SHIELD facility, you’re safe now. You’re on the good stuff, back on the medications. Doctors say you should be feeling more like your old self within a week or so.”

After a long pause, he realised there was someone missing. “Peter... Where’s Peter?” he said, panic lacing his question.

“Shhhh now, he’s going to be OK,” Pepper reassured, stroking his arm. “He’s.. just… he’s in the high dependency wing right now, he’s taking his time getting better. But the med team are working really hard and he’s made some improvements already. I’ve called May, she’s with him now.”

He sat himself up, wincing. “I have to see him.”

“I know you do. And I’m not going to try to stop you. But you’re not walking there, let me go get a wheelchair and I’ll take you. Five minutes though, you hear?”

He couldn’t get there fast enough, begging Pepper to practically run him to the far end of the Medbay to check in on the boy.

His progress was halted by a familiar face.

“What are you doing out of bed Mr Stark,” said Dr Cho. “You need to rest.”

“And I need to see the kid. I’m not resting until I do.”

“Very well. But no more than five minutes.”

“What is it with five minutes? If I want more time I’ll take it,” he snapped.

“You’ll obey my order or you won’t see him at all,” the doctor said, arms tightly folded. “Now do you want to see him or not?” 

Seeing the anguish in his face, she softened. “He’s not awake yet just so you know. We’ve got him on what’s called active core rewarming at the moment, we’re putting warm air in his lungs, administering a warm IV, filling his bladder with warm fluid - it’s all to reheat him from the inside out. His core temperature is rising albeit a little slower than we would like. But I expect he’ll make a full recovery.”

Audibly exhaling, the relief washed over him like a warm wave. “I still want to see him though.”

“Of course, come this way.”

Pepper pushed him into the room where he saw May sitting beside Peter’s bed. She heard the door open and looked over to him with tired eyes.

“Hey Tony, good to see you’re awake, how are you doing?”

Pepper wheeled him next to her, and he looked at Peter more closely. The boy was peacefully sleeping, with a blanket drawn up to his chin. Tony reached in under the covers to hold the boy’s hand, and smiled when he found it to be a whole lot warmer than it had been when he was by the roadside. Whatever nutrients they had been pumping into him were also helping reactivate his healing factor, as the cuts and bruises were fading nicely.

“A lot better than I was thank you, I just needed to see him, you know?”

“I do. You must rest too though, he won’t be happy if you’ve set yourself back worrying about him, you know what he’s like.”

He nodded. “Promise I will. Now I have the physical proof he’s still alive. I thought I’d lost him when we got to the roadside, his heart was so slow…”

“He was very close to dying, Mr Stark, or going into some kind of hibernation mode that we’d have had no clue how to get him out of,” said Dr Cho, matter-of-factly. “His core temperature had dropped to 84, and his heart rate dropped to 25 beats a minute. You were right to be worried.”

“When can I come back to see him?”

“How about in the morning when you’ve hopefully had a full night’s sleep?” May said, patting the man on the shoulder. “I’m going to stay here, so he won’t be alone, OK?”

He nodded in reluctant agreement, he was starting to feel exhausted again even after just a short outing. “Take good care of him, May. FRIDAY, make sure any updates on his condition are played out in my room.”

“Sure thing boss.”

After welcome visits from Sam, Bucky, Bruce, and Dr Strange, who’d been entertaining Morgan with a range of fun games and magic tricks - Morgan was delighted to show Tony what she’d learned and he was thrilled to see them - he was beyond exhausted.

But throughout, Peter was always on his mind, and to say he’d had a fitful night’s sleep was an understatement. He was grateful for every update FRIDAY gave him, as requested, but his heart would leap out of his chest every time she did, fearing the worst. 

At 5am, she spoke again. “Sir, Peter has woken up. He’s in some distress, but May and one of the night nurses is with him.”

He pressed the call button. 

“You called Mr Stark,” a young nurse said only moments later as she walked into his room.

“What’s going on with Pete?”

“He’s...struggling a little I’m afraid. Hypothermia can lead to bacterial pneumonia. We hoped he’d avoided it but unfortunately not. He’s not running a fully-blown fever - yet - but he’s got a nasty cough and the shivers, bless him. We’re looking after him though.”

He had done enough lying around. Yes he was still tired and yes he could still feel the drugs kicking back in but he could continue recovering while with Peter.

He swung himself off the bed and walked past the nurse who looked at him in some panic. “Are you coming?” He asked. “And where can I get a coffee round here?”

The nurse hurriedly followed him down the corridor, and to Peter’s room where he found the boy curled up on his side and coughing up a lung, May rubbing his back affectionately. His face was screwed up in clear discomfort.

“Hey kid, you’ve been through the wars eh?”

Peter panted slightly, shivers making his curly hair shake on his head. “Uh-huh. Feel like shit.”

“Language,” he responded with a smile, running his hand through his hair. “You’ll be feeling better soon, I promise. Have you had any sleep?”

“A bit, could do with more. Stupid cough keeps stopping me though.” Tony couldn’t help but notice the boy struggling to catch his breath, and a clammy sheen of sweat on his brow. 

“Easy now, we’re here for you ok?”

Peter gave a weak but sincere smile, and closed his eyes.

He and May had two of the more comfortable chairs from the compound lounge brought in and they sat with the teen for the whole day, keeping him talking, giving him ice chips and helping him with his coughing as best they could. He insisted the nurses brought his infusion pump and IV into the room so he could stay and he took naps when May insisted he do so. Star Wars played continually in the background.

Things took a turn for the worse when, despite the treatment and care, Peter’s temperature spiked. He wasn’t sure what was worse, dealing with seeing the kid too cold, or watching him in the grip of a fever. At least the kid was in the right place this time, with all the medical supplies and care available. 

May was the epitome of calm through it all, talking gently to the boy, reassuring him as Bruce, Dr Cho and Dr Strange tried to get his temperature down with cooling packs around his body and trying a combination of different antibiotics that, they hoped, his body wouldn’t metabolise too quickly.

Watching Peter just wasn’t something he could handle very well. He left the room two or three times to take a break from the boy’s delirious ramblings and tears. There was possibly nothing scarier than watching him hallucinating, the fear in his unseeing eyes, the trembling, the crying out. Coffee and reassurances from both Pepper and Rhodey, who’d also stayed close to hand, were giving some respite but not much.

“There’s not much more we can do than this at this stage,” Strange told the pair. “It will pass, it’s just his body reacting to the infection. We’re confident the combination of antibiotics will kick in soon and it’ll break. In the meantime we just have to keep him comfortable and hope he doesn’t suffer any seizures.”

Soon wasn’t soon enough. 

It took 12 long, agonising hours for Peter’s temperature to start finally going down. He hoped the kid wouldn’t remember anything of it. He knew he wouldn’t forget a second. 

But finally, at 3am and with his chest still wheezing noisily, he stabilised, falling into a deep sleep and giving the three medical minds on the team a much-needed rest and sigh of relief.

Tony’s exhaustion had won at 1.30am, but even May knew he would want to know an update. Weary herself but surviving on strong coffee, she nudged the man next to her.

“Tony,” she shook him gently. He jumped, looking around him in panic. He’d clearly fallen into a deep slumber. “What?! What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Look,” as she gestured towards the bed, and the still form of Peter, sweat free and peaceful.

“Oh thank God,” he said. “FRIDAY what’s his vitals?”

“Temperature 100 boss, pulse strong and steady.”

Both he and May could feel the tension wash away from them, suddenly lighter in the knowledge their boy was through the worst.

“Y’should be sleepin…” a small voice mumbled from the bed.

“And so should you,” May said, rushing to be closer to Peter. “You’re making me and Tony grey.”

“Sorry…you ‘k?”

He couldn’t help but join May at the other side of the bed, taking the kid’s hand. “We’re just fine, you rest OK. We’ll be here when you wake up.” 

Within minutes, and with May’s hand running through his hair, Peter was back into peaceful sleep. He got a chair for May so she could continue to soothe her precious boy and with her hand still threaded through Peter’s curls, she too fell asleep.

He watched the pair, with love, as a hand gently rubbed his back. “He looks better.” Pepper said. 

“Yeah, he’s going to be fine,” he said, as Pepper guided him back to his favourite armchair. “Just fine.”

“And so will you,” Pepper said. “Now they’re resting, why don’t you?”

She sat him down, made him comfortable and took off his glasses. “Get some rest Tony. I know you won’t leave, so i’ll stay with you.”

As she flicked through the magazine May had been reading, she heard her favourite sound. Tony’s gentle purring snore. 

All would be well.


End file.
